


Soar Above the Sky

by solrosan



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aunt Natasha Romanov, Female Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-16 04:58:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11821707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solrosan/pseuds/solrosan
Summary: Clint's plane goes down after a mission and Natasha is forced to go the farm to deliver the worst possible news. They were all prepared for the possibility (it comes with the territory, after all) but it doesn't make it easier when it comes down to it. Together they have to start figuring out how to exist in a world without the best friend, the husband, the dad.Without Clint.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this fic just after _Age of Ultron_ and I've done very few attempts to the plot or the details according to the canon that has unraveled as I've been able to finish this, just so that you're aware. 
> 
> The fic is still a WIP, so read at your own risk, but I feel confident enough to start posting and that's a good sign!
> 
> * * *

Natasha looked at the clock on the dashboard. It was well past 10 a.m., so the kids had to be in school by now. She started the car and left the rest stop. It surprised her how calm she felt as she drove the last miles to the Barton farm, but perhaps “calm” was the wrong word. “Numb” probably fitted better. She was numb. Director Hill had ordered her to take out sick leave, vacation days, and overtime, and in the end Natasha hadn’t argued. Hill probably thought she was on her way to a breakdown, or that she’d already had it and this was the aftermath. Natasha didn’t really care, she had more important things to focus her remaining energy on.

She parked the car in front of the barn. When she first came here, Clint had estimated its renovation to take another five months. Over a decade later, it still wasn’t done. Natasha took a deep breath, trying to will the numbness from her limbs without much success, and stepped out of the car.

“Aunt Nat?”

Natasha turned around, shocked to see Cooper come out of the barn, his arms greasy from the elbows down, and with a painfully familiar smile on his face. He’d grown at least four inches since she last saw him and his shoulders had broadened. He was even sprouting a little beard, which, in any other circumstance, Natasha would have teased him about.

“Why aren’t you in school?” Natasha asked, her weariness and confusion making it impossible to put on a smile as Cooper came up and gave her a sort-of-hug by just pressing his cheek against hers to not get oil and grease on her.

Cooper frowned when he took a step back. “It’s Sunday.”

Natasha blinked. She had been so sure it was Monday.

“Are you okay?” asked Cooper.

Her first instinct was to lie, to force herself to perk up and say that things were good, because that’s how she handled Clint’s children generally. Only… in a bit he would know anyway. He would know that she’d lied, and he’d know the truth. And the teenager – how old was he by now? 17? – had grown up with a mom who’d been in the army and a dad who was an assassin, so he was bound to know the signs of adults lying about things like this.

“No,” she therefore said with a sigh. “Is your mom home?”

Cooper nodded, sympathetically. “She’s inside.”

Natasha nodded too, finally putting on that smile, before she started walking up to the main house. Her steps were heavy, and the sound of cartoons seeping out through the open window made something press down hard on her chest. Why was it Sunday? It was supposed to be Monday and the children were supposed to be in school! 

She turned around and called back to Cooper: “Get yourself cleaned up and then come inside.”

Cooper nodded a confirmation that he’d heard. Natasha felt pretty sure he would reach the right conclusion before she got around to tell him. 

Natasha didn’t bother knocking, she just walked in. There was no one in the kitchen. Nathaniel was alone in the living room, glued to the TV. Natasha watched him for a moment, wondering if anything short of an alien attack would tear his attention away. 

She walked upstairs, hoping that she’d find Laura before running into Lila because she wasn’t sure she would be able to handle that. For the first time today, something seemed to go her way, because as she reached the second floor, Laura came out from Nathaniel’s bedroom with a laundry basket on her hip. 

“Natasha?” Laura said, looking just as surprised and confused as Cooper had. Her smile just barely reached her eyes before it dropped again. “What are you doing here, what’s wrong?”

“Aunt Nat’s here?” Lila popped her head out from her room, and two seconds later she had thrown herself around Natasha’s neck. Natasha almost fell backwards down the stairs.

“Careful,” Laura scolded.

Lila let go and jumped back, her bright smile disappearing when she took the time to actually look at Natasha. Natasha tried to keep up the smile, but it didn’t work very well. Damn it!

“What’s wrong?” Lila asked.

Natasha looked at Laura for help.

“Lila, go downstairs and put on coffee,” Laura said.

“But, mom…”

“No ‘buts’.”

“I’ll be right down,” Natasha said quickly. “I just need to talk to your mom about something first.”

“But— What’s _wrong_?”

Lila’s voice was demanding, a wrinkle between her eyes, and she all but stomped her feet. Natasha inhaled, once again opting for not lying.

“It’s about your dad.”

“Lila, go downstairs _now_ ,” said Laura sternly. It was obvious that it was a direct order, and Lila obeyed without another word. Natasha took a step aside to let the girl down the stairs, and both she and Laura watched Lila disappear out of sight.

“Let’s go in here,” Laura said, nodding towards Nathaniel’s room.

Natasha nodded, and walked past Laura into the youngest kid’s room. The room was a complete mess: Lego everywhere, unmade bed… a normal chaos. This wasn’t the right setting for this, but Natasha was already completely thrown off by the kids’ presence, so it didn’t really matter. To be honest, it felt like nothing really mattered anymore.

Laura sat down on the bed, looking up at Natasha as if she already knew what news was, but desperately wishing she was wrong. 

“Is he…?” she whispered.

Natasha nodded. “His plane was shot down.”

“When?”

“Seven weeks ago.”

“S-seven weeks a—“ Laura covered her mouth with her hands, her breathing becoming ragged and uneven.

Natasha hesitated, but then she moved the laundry basket from the bed and sat down next to Laura. Gently, she put a hand on Laura’s back, and Laura took the other one in a tight grip. Natasha squeezed back, her own self-control hanging on a very sheer thread. She’d had almost two months to process this already, but watching – and hearing – Laura fight to not fall apart made it hard to stay calm. 

“Do you want me to tell the kids?” Natasha asked when Laura seemed to have managed to pull herself together a little. 

Laura shook her head. “I should do it.”

“Do you want me there when you do?”

Laura nodded. “But let’s stay here a little longer, okay?”

Natasha nodded too. 

Laura hugged her. “We can’t cry until we’ve told them,” she mumbled against Natasha’s shoulder. “We can’t cry until we’ve told them. We can’t cry until—“

And at that she started to cry. Natasha stroked her back, resting her head against Laura’s. It surprised her that she didn’t feel the need to cry herself.

* * *

It took them twenty minutes to get downstairs. The children had gathered in the living room, and someone had forced Nathaniel to turn off the TV. They sat on the sofa, in a neat row oldest to youngest, just waiting.

Cooper had figured it out, Natasha saw it as soon as she stepped into the room and met his eyes. Natasha nodded discreetly to answer his unspoken question, but looked away before she could see his reaction.

Laura, her eyes red and her face puffy, lifted up Nathaniel and sat down on the sofa with him in her lap. 

“What’s wrong?” Lila asked. “Mom, what’s happened to dad?”

“There was an accident,” Laura said, her voice calm and steady. “He’s not coming home.”

Lila’s eyes – wide with fear – looked at Natasha.

Natasha nodded again to confirm. “His plane crashed when he was flying over Peru. We weren’t able to find—”

“Natasha,” Laura said softly, but pointedly, to shut her up. Natasha obeyed.

“Dad’s dead?” Lila asked, turning back to Laura.

“Yes, idiot!” Cooper sneered.

“Coop, please…” Laura said.

Her oldest son angrily shut his mouth, but his chin trembled. He was the first of the children to start crying.

* * *

Laura splashed cold water on her face in the hope that she’d wake up, or at least feel something other than this empty confusion that had settled in her stomach after she’d told the kids. It worked momentarily. She leaned against the sink, her eye closed, and let the water drip off her face. She reached for the towel and met her reflection in the mirror – it didn’t look bad, all things considering. The longest day of her life was drawing to an end. Cooper had disappeared for hours, Lila had cried for just as many. Nathaniel had finally fallen asleep on the sofa. Natasha had carried him to bed, and Laura had used it as a reason to ask if maybe, just maybe the older ones could get to bed too. She needed a moment without them crying, without them sitting starring aimlessly into space, without having to wonder where they were. She needed a moment without Natasha standing silent and stoic in the corner watching them all dissolve. 

She needed a moment.

Now that she had it, she had no idea what to do with it. Clint was dead. Gone. The absurdity of that still hadn’t caught up with her. She hadn’t cried since she and Natasha had left Nathaniel’s room, but she felt as wrung out as if she had done nothing else. 

“Mom…” she heard Lila whisper from the bedroom outside. 

Laura took a deep breath, pulling herself together again the best she could, before going out to face her daughter. It was a good thing she did, because the sight of Lila in her two-sizes-too-small Hawkeye pajamas made her breath get stuck in her throat.

The girl looked so lost. Her brave, brave little girl, who wasn’t that little anymore. Laura’s entire body ached with the need to take away the pain that had made Lila dig through the back of her closet to find the old pajamas. Clint had thought it so funny to give it to her for Christmas when she was twelve, even if Lila, in a pre-teen rebellion, never had worn it. Until tonight.

“Can I sleep in your bed tonight?” Lila asked. 

Laura nodded, pressing for a weak smile. “Of course, sweetie.”

Instead of getting into bed, Lila walked up to Laura and hugged her. Laura held her close, stroking her hair, and just… Her brave little soldier who had always been Daddy’s Girl. 

“Go to bed,” Laura whispered. “I’m going to go check on your brothers, then I’ll come back. I promise.”

Lila nodded and slowly let go. Laura watched her as she crept down under the covers, pulling Clint’s pillow to her chest and hugging it like a teddy bear. Laura felt a sting of jealousy, she’d had some vague plan of doing just that while she cried herself to sleep. But she could do it another night. 

Or maybe never.

As quietly as she could, she walked down the hall toward the children’s rooms. She pushed the door open to Nathaniel’s. Natasha had remembered to put on his night lamp, and the boy slept calmly. Laura lingered at the door, afraid that if she stepped inside she would wake him from the unknowing bliss that was sleep. The boy was only nine years old, though, how much of this did he really understand? God. She would have to teach him how to drive! The realization, how trivial it might be, turned her insides to ice. Clint was dead, so she’d have to teach Nathaniel to drive a car.

And shave. And tie a tie. And… oh my god… Laura pulled the door almost closed, feeling her eyes burn. 

She took a few deep breaths and rubbed the tears away – she had taught Cooper most of those things, she could do it again. She had to. She straightened up and squared her shoulders, before turning to Cooper’s closed door. With her hand on the door handle she changed her mind and knocked instead. 

“Cooper, can I come in?” she asked, but she didn’t get a response. After a while she knocked again. “I won’t come in if you don’t want me to, but… can you say something so that I don’t have to worry about where you are?”

It was quiet for another moment, but then she heard him move inside and he opened the door just enough to peek through. He looked worse than Lila, his eyes red and his hair dusty from being out in the barn most of the evening. Laura had to restrain herself to not push the door open and hold him. 

“Thank you,” Laura whispered. “Do you want to come and sleep in our bed with me and Lila?”

Cooper shook his head, and tried to close the door. Laura put her hand on it to stop him.

“I love you,” she said, when he met her eyes again. Cooper nodded, giving the door an extra push so that it shut, no matter what Laura tried to do. 

Laura patted the door once, before going back to the bedroom. Lila had turned to face the door, still hugging this pillow tight to her chest. 

“Why is it different?” Lila whispered, when Laura had lay down next to her. “He wasn’t here yesterday either.”

Laura reached out to move some hair from Lila’s face. “Yesterday we thought he could still come home.”

It wasn’t as simple as that. Or maybe it was? Yesterday they had lived in hope that Clint would come home, and in fear that he wouldn’t. Now they had neither of those things, as if the emotional background noise of their entire life was gone. Maybe that’s why Laura felt so empty. Lila seemed to accept the answer, at least for tonight, and she moved up to Laura, who pulled her close. 

Not before too long, they fell asleep with Clint’s pillow pressed between them.


	2. Chapter 2

It was a warm, but not clear, day. 

They had had a memorial for Clint down at the church, it had been filled with flowers. They had singed hymns and read parts of scripture. Laura had read a couple of words. Natasha had refused beforehand, and had suffered through it all sitting between Cooper and Lila. Both of them crying. 

Now they were back at the farm. Tables with refreshments and snack food were put up in the yard, and children were running around playing. At first their parents had tried to make them sit still, but Laura had said that it was all right, because kids were kids, and Clint hadn’t wanted them to sit still. He wouldn’t have, but Natasha wondered if he had wanted any of this at all.

Tony and Pepper, Steve, Fury, Hill, Coulson, Wanda, Bruce and Erik were there, standing huddled together like crows in a corner of the yard. For a while Tony had tried talking to Lila, and Steve had made an effort with Cooper, but they had given up because the children weren’t really responding. Laura was making dutiful rounds, moving from cluster of people to cluster of people, accepting condolences and being told what a great man Clint had been – not that anyone here had really known him. 

From her place on the porch, Natasha saw the polite smile on Laura’s face becoming more and more forced and artificial. Natasha thanked God that she was just Clint’s next-of-kin on paper and not the one having to graciously listen to all the empty ways people said they were sorry. 

It was enough playing host and making sure they never ran out of coffee.

“Everything under control?”

Natasha startled at the sound of Steve’s voice and turned around. She felt truly embarrassed by the fact that she hadn’t noticed him before he spoke. 

“So far,” she muttered, “but you might have to stop me from hitting Bruce in the head with a frying pan if this goes on for much longer.”

Steve smiled. He leaned against the railing next to her, his back to the garden and the guests. 

“It was a nice ceremony,” he said.

“It’s a ridiculous ceremony – what’s the point of having a funeral for someone who isn’t here? But it’s for the kids. Laura thought that something should be normal, at least.”

“I heard you’re taking some time off.”

Natasha nodded. “I have some six years of vacation days to take out. I’ve promised to stay and help Laura out for a while.”

“That’s all there is? Because when I talked to Hill it sounded like she’s forcing you to take the time.”

“Well.” Natasha shrugged. She didn’t want people to know about that. Not Steve, not Tony, not Sam, not Bruce, not… Laura. Definitely not Laura. She was supposed to be the strong one, she’d had weeks to process this. It was other people’s time to work through it now.

Steve put his hand on her shoulder. She moved away from his touch, but not from him. Though she wished he’d stop looking at her like that, like she was someone to pity. 

“You know,” he said, his voice annoyingly sympathetic, “the first time I lost my best friend, I deliberately crashed a plane into the Arctic.”

She let out a huff of laughter. “Yes, that’s exactly the same as what I did.”

“Have you told Laura about where you’ve been the last months?”

“There’s no point.”

“Are you sure?”

“Where’s that frying pan when you need it?” she asked, but finally she looked at him and gave him a smile similar to Laura’s. 

“I’m sorry. I’ll stop prying.”

Natasha kept smiling, but it became more strained by the second. With a deep sigh she, too, turned her back to the garden. She leaned against his shoulder, her arms wrapped around herself.

“Don’t you dare touch me,” she muttered.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

* * *

Laura thanked Lila’s friend’s parents one more time for coming before excusing herself. She looked around the yard. It took her under a minute to locate her children – Cooper and Lila stood next to each other and were being talked to, Nathaniel sat with one of his friends in the grass, picking straws in silence. All around them there were people from the village who had come to… she didn’t know why anyone was here. For her sake? For the children’s? They hadn’t known Clint by more than name and looks. They thought he’d been a test pilot for the army and now they wanted to talk to her about his sacrifice for his country, about _her_ sacrifice for her country. If anyone was curious about the lack of soldiers at the service, they didn’t say.

Away from the rest, under the big tree with the swing, stood the only people who had known the real Clint. All of him. The husband. The father. The archer. The assassin. Her Clint. Laura couldn’t help wondering if they, like Natasha, had known about his death for months. Nick and Maria must have. Surely Phil. But the others? She swallowed the bitter taste the thought of being the last to find out Clint was dead created, and walked up to them to get it over with. 

“Laura,” Phil said, smiling in his peculiar way when he saw her coming. 

All the others turned to her, opening up the ring they had created to let her in, and then closed it again with her standing between Phil and Pepper. 

“It was a lovely ceremony,” Pepper said before there was even a chance for an awkward silence. 

“Yes,” said Tony when he got an elbow in his side from his wife. “Charming. Very Barton. With the whole… Iowa, and the… ”

Pepper elbowed him the side again. 

Laura managed to smile at their attempts. “He would have hated it. All of it. Except the fact that you’re here. Thank you for coming all this way.”

The others mirrored her strained smile and muttered polite responses she didn’t quite catch. 

“Clint, he was—“

“Can we talk about anything else, please?” Laura interrupted Phil. “I really appreciate that you’re all here, but if anyone who has kept this from me for weeks says their sorry, I might get out his arrows and jam one through your ears.”

She looked around the group. Pepper and Erik looked appropriately shocked, Tony, Wanda and Bruce avoided meeting her eyes, while Nick, Maria, and Phil remained disturbingly neutral. It wasn’t until then Laura realized that Steve wasn’t there. 

“Pepper, do you have any baby pictures?” Laura said, turning her entire attention to the only other partner of an Avenger. “How old is she now?”

“Nineteen months,” Pepper said, smiling the way only mothers talking about their children could, and sounding relieved to have a new topic. “She’s with my mother – stop making that face, Tony, there is no way we’d leave our daughter with Mark.”

Laura looked at the pictures Pepper showed her on the phone, she offered compliments, and small anecdotes from when her own children were that age. She deliberately stayed away from any involving Clint, but for almost five minutes she managed to hold a normal conversation that could have taken place last week. Still, when she left them, she felt closer to tears than she had been the entire day. 

It took her precisely 20 seconds for her to locate the children – all three of them now sitting together and pulling up grass. She saw Steve refilling the coffee, and Natasha coming out with another tray of cookies. 

This, she thought, Clint would have liked this part.

* * *

Natasha knocked on the open bedroom door. Laura, sitting on the edge of the bed, looked up at her. They both looked dreadful. The day was over, everyone had left. Steve, Tony and Pepper had stayed to help them clean up, but now they were all alone again. Finally. 

“I’ve made dinner,” Natasha said. “They’re eating in front of the TV.”

Laura nodded. 

“I can come up with a plate for you, if you like. It’s just spaghetti and—”

“I threatened to stick one of Clint’s arrows through Phil’s ear for keeping his death from me,” Laura said, sounding very detached. “Tony, Wanda and Bruce couldn’t even look at me. Did they all know before I did?”

“Probably.”

“Well, then…” Laura rubbed her face. 

“It’s not their fault.”

“No, it’s yours, right?” Laura looked at her. “It was your call to not tell me sooner. Don’t think I don’t know that. I just— What on earth made you think you had the right to keep this from me?” 

Laura’s raised voice made Natasha take a step into the bedroom and close the door behind her. 

“You know,” Laura said, shaking her head with a terrible smile on her face. “I’ve learned to expect this bullshit from Nick, and from Phil and Maria, and from all fucked up organizations he’s worked for over the years, but I thought that you at least… I thought that if you knew, I knew. I _trusted_ you to tell me these things! Do you have any idea what an idiot I’ve felt like today?”

“I’m sorry,” Natasha said quietly.

“That’s all you have to say?”

Natasha nodded.

“Get out!” Laura yelled at the top of her lungs.

Natasha hesitated, but when Laura yelled at her to leave again, she did. She closed the door behind her, and leaned heavily against the wall next to it. From downstairs she could hear that the children had put on the movie with the ugly dinosaur. Clint had known the theme song by heart, and Natasha had learned it through his humming. Right now, she wished she hadn’t.

She ran her fingers through her hair. For the first time today she found herself fighting tears. She closed her eyes. Deep breaths in. Deep breaths out. She could do this. If Laura needed someone to be angry with, it could be her. Laura had every right to be angry with her.

* * *

Later that night, when the house was quiet and it was pitch black dark outside, Laura walked downstairs to Natasha’s room. She was half-hoping that Natasha would have gone to bed, but she knew the woman was never asleep until after midnight. 

The light was on, and the door open. Natasha sat cross-legged on the bed, a book in her lap and another couple of them lying open next to her. Laura recognized it as a type of meditation-in-action that Clint often used when it wasn’t appropriate with weapon care. She briefly wondered if it was Clint who had taught the technique to Natasha, or Natasha who had taught him. 

Natasha looked up before Laura had time to say anything. Laura felt her own tiredness mirrored back at her from Natasha. It was oddly nice seeing her like this, in sweats, her hair in a messy knot, and emotionally drained.

“Are they asleep?” Natasha asked.

“In bed at least.”

“Good.”

Laura nodded, wrapping her bathrobe closer and keeping her arms around her. “Before, when you… when I— I’m sorry.”

A smile brushed over Natasha’s lips. “I can take it.”

“Still, I’m sorry.” 

Natasha nodded. Laura did the same, and was going to say goodnight, but in the last moment she changed her mind.

“Why?” she asked. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Protocol, at first,” said Natasha without hesitation. “If we call every time something happens we’d get nothing else done. Then…”

Natasha trailed off, her eyes drifting far away from the room.

“Then?” Laura prompted. 

“He used to…” said Natasha, frowning as she focused on Laura again. “He used to joke about how I always brought him home. He’d do something stupidly reckless – I’ve sworn to never tell you about any of those things, by the way – and when I yelled at him for being an idiot he’d just smile. He’d smile and tell me to calm down, because he knew I’d get him out.” She sighed deeply. “How could I possible come here and tell you that I hadn’t?”

“You weren’t even on that mission.”

Natasha shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does. It’s not your fault he’s…” Laura sighed too, shaking her head. “I don’t blame you for that, and neither should you.”

Natasha looked confused at her. Twice she opened her mouth as if to speak without saying a word. 

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” asked Laura again.

“I didn’t know how to, and every day I didn’t it became worse.”

Laura nodded. “It did.”

“I’m sorry.”

Laura nodded again. She couldn’t bring herself to forgive Natasha yet. She would eventually, she knew that, but not yet. If for nothing else so for the fact that the anger helped her not crying all the time.

“It’s not on you that he’s not coming back,” said Laura, because that much she could offer up.

“Thank you,” said Natasha. She closed the book in her lap. “I have saved a plate of spaghetti for you. I can heat it up.”

“I’m not that hungry.”

“Tony and Pepper brought an obscenely expensive bottle of wine that I think would go perfect with reheated spaghetti.”

Laura smiled weakly. “Fine, you’ve convinced me.”

“If only the kids were that easy to manipulate,” Natasha half-muttered as she put away the books and got up. 

Laura, in spite of herself, laughed. A soft, tired laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. “Yes, please don’t bribe them with alcohol quite yet.”

“No promises,” said Natasha, but she smiled as well. Tired and… tired. 

Some twenty minutes later they sat at the kitchen table, with a glass wine each that went absolutely perfect with spaghetti and homemade garlic bread. They talked about groceries. About gas for the car. About how they should have asked Tony to fix the lawn mower. Ground service stuff. Natasha made a list of things to do. It was the second conversation Laura had today that could technically have taken place last week – if not for the fact that she had it with Natasha.

When she had finished the food, Laura reached for the bottle to refill their glasses. Natasha didn’t protest, but raised her eyebrows questioning. 

“Why not?” Laura said. “We haven’t toasted him yet, and who better to do that than us?”

Natasha raised her glass. “To Clint.”

“To Clint.” Laura raised her glass as well. They smiled and drank, then they sat silently lost in their own memories of Clint.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who thought this would happen? I know I didn't... But a weekend with [spectralarchers](http://spectralarchers.tumblr.com/) seems to have poked the Marvel Muse. Hopefully there won't be a year until next time.
> 
> Also, since this _is_ taking forever, I want to remind you that when this story started, we only had Age of Ultron. So let's pretend there aren't nine thousands MCU movies after that one.
> 
> * * *

The days passed slowly, all following the same pattern of enforced continued existence. Natasha always got up first and made breakfast for the rest of them while Laura still tried to motivate herself to get out of bed – Laura suspected that Natasha didn’t sleep at all, but it was nice to wake up to freshly made coffee so she didn’t mention it. 

Laura made sure they all sat down together for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, even if no one really ate much. It was something concrete. Something to tie the day to. Something they had no choice about. No matter what, they had to eat. And sleep. Those two vital, basic needs became the focus of their days.

Wake up, get hit by reality, eat breakfast, wait for lunch, eat lunch, wait for dinner, eat dinner, wait until it was late enough for bed, go to sleep. Start over.

Soon enough, the children couldn’t miss anymore of school and had to go back. Nathaniel’s teacher said that he could take another week off as long someone stopped by to pick up some homework, but Laura thought it was better to get them all back to school at the same time. 

The first day, Laura drove Nathaniel to school and Natasha took Cooper and Lila. Usually, Cooper drove him and Lila in the old Volvo, but Natasha had offered and no one had questioned it. Laura was relieved to have her looking out for them today when she couldn’t be in two places at once herself.

They arrived early, because Laura was going to have a meeting with Nathaniel’s teacher. Laura didn’t know why, but it was apparently some formalized routine they had when a child had lost someone close to them. It was probably good. 

Definitely. 

It was definitely good.

Nathaniel held her hand when they walked up to the school, he hadn’t done that since his first week. After that he had proudly declared that he was old enough go by himself and that she could just drop him in the parking lot. (Laura had followed him to the front door for another month before she’d agreed on the parking lot thing.) Now Nathaniel didn’t question that she got out of the car with him and he took her hand as soon as she came within reach. 

“Can you sit here by yourself while I talk to Mrs. Pawar?” Laura asked Nathaniel, crouching down in front of him in the outer room of the teachers’ office. “It won’t take that long.”

Nathaniel nodded and raised his chin a little. Laura smiled, stroking his hair once. Brave little superheroes, all her children. 

Mrs. Pawar told Nathaniel that she was happy to see him again when she came and gave him some comics she for some reason had with her, before showing Laura to her office. She shared it with two other teachers (Mr. Johannsen, who had been both Cooper and Lila’s teacher, and a new woman Laura couldn’t remember the name of), but neither of them were in yet. The room was cluttered and chaotic, papers and drawings, books and boxes everywhere. Laura found it comforting. 

“Please sit, Mrs. Barton,” said Mrs. Pawar, nodding at the chair on the other side of the desk, as she sat down. “I’m sure you’re already tired of hearing it, but I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Laura nodded. She was tired of it, but the acknowledgement made it less annoying. “Thank you.”

“I never got the chance to meet your husband, but I understand he was a good man.”

“The best,” Laura said, still presenting the polite smile she had put on especially for this meeting. “But then I’m bias.”

“As you should be. If there’s anything we can do from the school to make things easier, please don’t hesitate to ask. It’s not just a line, we can be rather flexible if it’d help.”

Laura nodded again.

“That said… we don’t have any resources for grief support of any kind. We barely have a school nurse these days.”

“Clint’s company helps with that, if we need it,” said Laura, surprised by the suggestion that she would expect that kind of service from the school. “They aren’t used to working with children, but… they’ve offered to help anyway.”

Mrs. Pawar looked a bit confused. “Wasn’t your husband in the army?” 

“ _With_ the army, not _in_ the army,” said Laura, telling the same lie she’d told all throughout her marriage. “Private contractor. He was in the army when we met, though. We both were.” 

“I see,” said Mrs. Pawar, nodding. “And I understand from our phone conversation that you had some extra help at home at the moment, too?”

“Yes, Clint has— he had a lot of friends, and they’re helping us out, for now.”

“That’s good.”

“It’s something.”

Mrs. Pawar frowned, but didn’t comment. Laura pretended she didn’t see it. And she was grateful that Natasha stayed with them. She was. Truly. She didn’t know why she had said that.

“Is there anything else?” she asked, going for a smile again. 

“Yes, there are actually two forms we’d like you to fill out concerning where Nathaniel has been these last weeks, and to confirm that I’ve spoken to you about this.” Mrs. Pawar held out two papers for her. “You can fill them in now or do it at home and come back with them another day.”

Laura looked at the first piece of paper. The first thing to fill in under things like the student’s name and grade was “Relationship with the deceased”. She starred at it, wondering if Cooper and Lila would come home with similar forms.

“I’ll fill it in at home,” she said, clearing her throat. “Thank you.”

With that, she got up, thanked Mrs. Pawar, and left a little too quickly to uphold any kind of façade of being unfazed by the forms given to her. Outside the office on his chair, Nathaniel still sat with the comic books, mouthing his way through the dialogue. She took a deep breath and blinked away the threat of tears.

“Hi, Nate,” she said, smiling. “I’m done. Are you ready to go to class?”

Without a word, Nathaniel slid off his chair and took her hand again. It felt absolutely terrible having to drop him off at his classroom. All she wanted to do was take him home and keep him safe forever.

* * *

Laura steered the car to the side of the road before answering her phone. Clint had always been adamant about that, but Laura usually only followed that practice when Clint was in the car. Now, it felt like talking while driving would be the most reckless thing she could possibly do.

It said _The Other Woman_ on the mobile screen and Laura’s heart dropped like a stone. What had happened now?

“Laura.”

“ _Do we need any food?_ ” Natasha said, as usual ignoring any form of greeting and jumping right into the conversation.

“I honestly don’t know,” said Laura, sighing with relief. “Why? Are you in town?”

“ _Mm_.” Natasha sounded absent. “ _Did you know I can probably make three different kinds of bombs with the things they have here?_ ”

Laura smiled. “Not like the grocery stores in Washington, is it?”

“ _Definitely not._ ”

“Buy something so that we have dinner and breakfast, then we’ll make a proper list for tomorrow.”

“ _Mm._ ”

“Did everything go okay this morning?”

“ _I think so, but I’m staying close._ ”

“Please tell me you’re not having the school under surveillance.”

“ _No._ ” Natasha huffed, but Laura thought she heard her smiling. “ _I promised to come and pick them up if they need me to._ ”

Laura felt warm inside. “Thank you.”

“ _Mm,_ ” was all Natasha said, and then she hung up. 

Laura shook her head. It was good that Natasha was there. It was more than something.

* * *

It was strange, having the big house to herself. Natasha was used to it being filled with noise and energy. Sure, both those things had been on the down-low during this stay, but it still hadn’t been empty or quiet. 

It was Wednesday and Laura’s first day back at work, and Natasha found herself just walking around the house without goal or purpose. The house was moderately clean, Laura had gone grocery shopping the day before. She had unpacked all the clothes Steve had brought her when he came for the funeral. Cooper had figured out how to repair the lawn mower, so the grass was cut. She didn’t even have to stay out of the way because there was no one to stay out of the way of.

There was nothing to do.

After two hours of nothingness, of the house seemingly expanding to infinity, leaving her small and lonely, she put on her running shoes. There was a track starting just behind the toolshed, it was about 8 miles long and most of it in open terrain. She knew it well since it was one of the few ways to get a good workout around the farm. 

She popped in her earbuds when she got outside and left the haunted farm behind. In front of her the landscape opened up. She lifted her chin, extended her step, increased the speed. It felt good. It felt right. She hadn’t anything like this in weeks and her body had clearly missed it. Sorely. 

The ground beneath her feet.

Her ponytail bouncing. 

The wind in her face.

Her heart pumping. 

The track started alongside the enclosure where Laura off-and-on talked about keeping sheep. Clint had always moaned about needing to mend the damn fence if they did. Natasha did consciously not think about that as she ran beside it. 

She followed the track past the old shack where she’d sometimes hidden when things got too overwhelming during her first visits to the farm. She paid it no attention, just speeded up some more. She rounded the lake where she knew all the Barton children (including Clint and his brother) had learned how to swim. 

It was incredibly freeing to just run. One foot in front of the other. Constant motion. Moving forward.

The music in her ears helped to block out everything but her feet against the group. It helped her to not think about how Clint had slammed her into that very tree and screamed at her get off his case and leave him alone. Yet she couldn’t ignore the echo of him admitting that he was afraid of going back into the field after New York.

So Natasha pushed a little hard. Focused on her breathing. Her step. Her muscles. Her body. Appreciating the wind. The sun. On the home stretch she gave it all she had left. Every last ounce of energy and strength. 

Her lungs burned. Her legs too. 

She stopped in the middle of the yard. Hands on her thighs, gasping for air. She pulled out the earbuds, listening to the sound of her own breath and the pulsating beating of her heart in her ears.

Soon her breathing was under control. Her heartrate started to go down. Natasha straightened up, whipping the sweat of her face with her t-shirt, and realized how much lighter she felt. 

She was going to have to do that again soon.


End file.
